


Love's Light Wings

by shushu_yaoi_lj



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Baz is going to put on weight, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mention of rimming, Oral Sex, Penguins, Pining, Simon has a cat, Smut, an awful lot of breakfast, because Baz is in this fic so what were you expecting, expect a lot of fluff from chapter 2, some angst in chapter 1, terrible bread jokes, the three rules of match-breaking, way too many croissants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj
Summary: “Bunce, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unscheduled meeting?”“I need a favour, Basil. It’s about Simon.”“Snow?” I ask, giving away my surprise.“I need your match-breaking services. I want you to break him and Agatha up.”Or the professional match-breaker AU with terrible bread jokes and penguins.
Relationships: Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 113
Kudos: 289





	1. Rule number 3

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [ Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) for being an amazing beta and for virtually holding my hand during the angsty part of this chapter. This was supposed to be pure crack and fluff, but life decided to throw me a bucketful of lemons and I made angsty smutty lemonade with it. Thanks Di, for being there for me.  
> Additional massive thanks to [ commeunoasis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commeunoasis/pseuds/commeunoasis) for being super lovely and supportive (and for insisting on the bread jokes).

**Baz**

The phone rings and I pick up straight away. I know how annoying Fiona can be if I keep her waiting.

She’s supposed to be my secretary, but she’s more like a living nightmare. And my auntie.

“Basilton speaking.”

“Of course, it’s fucking Basilton speaking. It’s your private line in your bloody office, you knob. Who else would pick up the phone?”

“What the fuck do you want, Fiona?”

“You have a meeting in the conference room.”

I check my agenda and it’s blank. I’ve left the morning open because I needed to sort out a huge pile of paperwork.

“Fiona, it’s not possible. I only have Miss Stainton at 3pm and Miss Possibelf at 4pm.”

There’s a sigh at the other end of the line and then the distinctive sound of some kind of annoying game beeping in the background.

“Are you playing on your phone again?” I hiss.

“No,” she clearly lies, then yawns “your guest is waiting, Basil.”

“Who is it?”

“Let me check…Penelope Bunce. She said you were friends at university, so I let her through.”

I swallow loudly.

Penelope Bunce. Simon Snow’s best friend. What could she possibly want from me?

I hang up and straighten my tie. I look at myself in the reflection of my glass door before swinging it open and marching to the conference room, trying to exude as much confidence as I possibly can.

I open the door and she’s sitting there, reading a book and playing with a loose purple curl. Her ridiculous witch glasses are still the same and her abysmal fashion sense clearly hasn’t changed either.

“Bunce,” I say, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this unscheduled meeting?”

“Basil, nice to see you too!” She smiles like she’s about to eat me for dinner.

I sit down in front of her and cross my legs, moving a pen with my long fingers, like I’ve seen villains do in films (I wish I had a white cat to stroke right now).

This is my territory. Love’s Light Wings is my family’s company. It was created by my mother, back when she finished university, as a matchmaking company, but it nearly shut down when all those internet websites and apps popped up.

I’ve spent the past six months trying to reinvent it. We offer a great variety of services now, from incredibly beautiful high-end escorts, to classes on how to sell yourself on matching sites. We have a gym, make-up classes and even a post break-up room, where people can demolish china with a baseball bat.

What could Bunce possibly want from me?

“I need a favour, Basil. It’s about Simon.”

I freeze and drop my pen (it’s a good job I don’t have a cat).

“Snow?” I ask, giving away my surprise.

“I need your match-breaking services. I want you to break him and Agatha up.”

My mouth opens and I just sit there gaping at her for a few seconds, then try to regain my composure.

“Absolutely not. I’m not offering that kind of service anymore. We used to do it ages ago, but it just brought a bad reputation to our company,” I do my best not to sigh bitterly. My mother’s company is too important and I’ve worked hard to bring it back to its original splendour. And even if I used to be the best match-breaker in the city and I could do the job blindfolded, there is another problem.

“Besides, I know Snow, I lived with him for three years. How am I supposed to break him up? We hate each other.”

Bunce leans closer, likes she’s about to tell me a secret.

“You owe me and you know it.”

I wince and groan. Bunce once caught me stealing books from the university’s library (just for the thrill) (and because Simon fucking Snow had dared me to do it). She didn’t report me to the librarian and she actually covered for me, when I ran away with the books still clutched in my hands.

“None of my current employees are trained for the job. We stopped doing it months ago.”

“I want you to do it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest in her usual bossy way.

“Bunce, do you realise that I run this company and I have a lot of work to do?”

“You owe me,” she repeats, “and Simon is miserable. I don’t know what happened between you two before the end of university, but he clearly cares about you, in a weird twisted kind of way. And I know you do too.”

I don’t believe for a second that Snow cares about me, but she’s right on the second one.

I’ve been in love with him since the moment I first met him. We shared a flat for three years. We drove each other mad every single day, but I would go to the moon and back for him.

I’ve tried to forget him. I’ve tried to move on and just date random curly freckled strangers, but I can’t.

I love him too fucking much.

My first love. My first man. The only one I’ve ever wanted and ever touched.

“Ok, Bunce,” I hear myself say and I already know I’m going to regret this, “I’ll help you out. But only because I owe you.”

“I’m obviously going to pay you. But I want it done, nice and quick,” she says like breaking up Snow and Wellbelove is the easiest job in the world, “I’m going to the South Pole on an expedition for two months, I want it to be over by the time I get back.”

“What are you going there for?” I ask, frowning.

“To study penguins.”

**Penny**

I leave the office and I already feel lighter.

I know Simon is going to hate me, if he finds out (that’s why I haven’t told Shep about this; he can’t keep a secret for his life), but he’s so unhappy. They’re clearly not meant for each other; Agatha makes him miserable and he drives her insane.

They broke up towards the end of university, but then she decided to take him back, god knows why. It’s been a train wreck since then. Since Baz left and we lost contact with him. Simon’s been so sad and lost.

It was a brilliant idea to hire Baz to seduce Agatha and split them up.

It’s all for the best.

**Baz**

I still think it’s the worst idea ever to hire me to seduce Snow to split them up, but deep down I’m secretly dying to do this job. Because I really want to see him face to face again.

There are three simple rules to match-breaking:

  1. Never have sex with the person you’re supposed to break up.
  2. Don’t fall in love with them.
  3. Always charge the client for additional expenses.



I’m obviously a professional and I have a perfect record of always following all of them and successfully breaking up couples in the most subtle way possible.

Of course, this job is not for everyone. I had to fire my cousin Dev on his first assignment, because he broke all three rules when I asked him to break up Niall and his terrible boyfriend (the bastard was cheating on him). At least they’re in love now, but I still lost an employee.

I get ready in the morning and wear my best suit and a pale blue shirt with a light floral pattern. I look stunning, if I may say so myself.

Snow started working for that bakery next to our old flat in the summer before our last year at Watford University and Ebb hired him out of sympathy (he was always skint), even though she didn’t actually need the extra help. When she passed away, she left it to him and he’s changed it a lot over the past few months.

He’s turned it into a lovely place that sells sourdough bread and pastries. Sometimes (more like most days) I take the longer road to work just to pass by and peek inside. To see him smiling at customers and arranging things in the shop window. I never go in though. I don’t know how to face him after what happened between us.

**Simon**

I finish putting the new batch of biscuits on the counter, when I see him.

He’s just peeking inside, pretending to be interested in the selection of bread and pastries, thinking that I haven’t noticed him. Thinking that I don’t notice him every day.

I wish he would just push that bloody door open and come in.

I really want to speak to him.

**Baz**

He broke my heart. Into a million teeny-tiny pieces and then jumped on them for good measure.

I spent three years loving him in silence (well, kind of, there were a lot of loud arguments) and I had resigned myself to a quiet life of pining over his bronze curls and blue eyes, making his life a misery with our constant bickering and teasing him to no end. Until the day Wellbelove decided to leave him.

It was three weeks before the end of university. I was already depressed because I didn’t want to part ways with him and I didn’t know what kind of Machiavellian plan I could devise to keep in touch with him, when he got home completely drunk on a Friday night.

I was ready to go to bed, when he suddenly burst in, smelling distinctly of cheap alcohol and stumbling through the door.

“Baz! You posh twat, come and give me a hand to take my shoes off,” he shouted at me. And he looked so pitiful and adorable, that I simply couldn’t say no.

Snow doesn’t get drunk very often, but when he does, he normally wakes up with the worst hangover the following morning and sometimes he doesn’t remember much of the previous evening.

So I thought, _why not? Let’s indulge in helping Snow simply because he asked me to. He probably won’t remember a thing come tomorrow morning anyway._

I got him to sit down on the sofa and knelt between his legs to unlace his shoes and take them off. God, my dick was already stirring in my pants at the thought of what I could have done in that position. If only Snow hadn’t been so irretrievably straight…

“What’s the matter with you? Why are you so plastered?” I asked.

“Agatha’s left me,” he sniffed and I lifted my gaze only to find him hiding his face and brushing away his tears with clumsy hands.

“Snow…” I didn’t know what to say. How do you console your secret love/mortal enemy after a breakup that actually makes you ecstatic?

“She said she needed some space…I was a terrible boyfriend anyway…”

I put my hand on his knee and patted it gently, trying to be kind, even though I didn’t know how to do it. Then I sat down next to him and circled his shoulders with my arm (Christ, he was so warm) and he actually snuggled closer and cried on my shoulder a bit more.

I have no idea how we went from that to snogging, but I ended up lying on the sofa with Simon Snow on top of me, kissing me until my mouth was pleasantly sore and I couldn’t tell what time it was or where I was anymore.

“Fuck, you taste so good…” he whispered in between kisses, sliding his fingers under my shirt and clumsily stroking my hard dick over my trousers.

“Simon, wait…” I managed to say when his lips moved to my neck, “You-aaah…you’re drunk.”

“Shut up, Baz.”

**Simon**

I don’t know why it took me so long to realise that I was attracted to him. Even when Agatha broke up with me the first time and I ended up completely hammered, snogging Baz senseless on the couch, I still didn’t get it. I still blamed it on the alcohol or the fact that he smelled amazing and his lips were divine.

I should have thought that he was kissing me in an awkward kind of way. I think I was too drunk to realise that it was his first kiss. But I always assumed that he had tons of secret lovers, since he’s so fit and handsome. Perfect in every single way (except for when he’s being a wanker) (but even then, he’s very good at that too).

I think I forced his hand. Pushed him too much. He kept on saying that I was drunk, that I was too upset, that I would regret it in the morning. But I dragged him to my room, pushed him onto the bed and started undressing him. I broke his expensive shirt, sending all the buttons flying across the room with a satisfying sound. Then unzipped his trousers and slid my hand down his boxer-briefs. And the sounds he made, fuck…

I never knew Baz would be so vocal and would moan like that, it was turning me on so much to hear him lose control. But before I could continue making him fall apart under me, he flipped us over and was straddling me on the bed. And his eyes were like a storm.

“Snow, what exactly are we doing?” he asked me.

“You called me Simon before,” I stupidly answered. Because I liked it when he did.

“You’re straight,” he argued.

“I want you,” I replied, reaching up for his mouth and sliding my tongue inside, making him melt in my arms again.

**Baz**

I was selfish. I should have stopped him, thrown a bucket of cold water at him. I should have possibly left the flat, because he was drunk and I was taking advantage of his broken heart.

I was a colossal dick.

**Simon**

I took advantage of him. Because I hadn’t realised that he liked me, that he was gay and that he had probably wanted me for a long time.

I pushed all of his buttons, until he was undressing me, exploring my body with his cool fingers, mapping my moles and freckles with his lips, making me gasp and whimper when he reached my impossibly hard cock and he took me in his mouth. I was just raw feelings by then, begging him for more, to make me come into his mouth, to feel more of him.

I didn’t even warn him, coming hard down his throat with a long low moan. It was the first time someone had touched me like that. The first time someone actually made me feel wanted. And loved.

He kept on kissing me there afterwards, trailing a delicate pattern with his lips across my body, making his way up to my mouth, as I was trying to catch my breath.

“Fuck, Baz…that was amazing…”

**Baz**

I was so hard, but I still had a bit of dignity left (or so I thought). I took him to the bathroom, ran a hot shower to sober him up. But he dragged me under the water with him, touching me all over, kissing me like his life depended on it, until I came in his hand, trying so hard not to tell him that I loved him, that I had loved him for so long, with all my heart.

Then we got dressed in silence and I made him some warm milk with honey (and what’s safer than that? It’s the least sexy drink on the planet). But we ended up on my bed this time, his lips exploring my body, sucking until he left marks, possessively grabbing and stroking, touching me where no one had ever laid a finger.

“I want you,” he whispered in my ear. And I thought I knew what he meant, but then he surprised me when he said, “I want you to fuck me.”

And I felt like dying. Because how could I say no to that, even though I had a feeling he was still drunk?

**Simon**

I was definitely sober by then. It just slipped. I realised it was the truth when the words had already left my mouth and by then, I wanted him so badly it hurt.

I tried to tell myself that it was hate sex. That we had spent three years getting on each other’s nerves and it was just pent-up frustration.

That it was post break-up sex, to get over Agatha.

Maybe I was simply curious. Or just horny.

The truth is that I had wanted him for a long time. But it took me months to come to that conclusion and by then it was too late.

**Baz**

I think he just wanted to be touched. To feel wanted. He was probably heart-broken and needed someone to take care of him. Show him some love.

And I had so much love to give him that I was about to burst.

So, I gave it all to him.

**Simon**

He was so gentle and kind. He took his time running his fingers across my skin, kissing me all over, so slowly that I was a whimpering mess by the time I felt his slick finger sliding inside me. I was lying on all fours, my face pressed against a pillow, sobbing into it, because my skin was on fire, tingling with over stimulation; he was bringing me to life with his fingertips on my skin, his lips on my back.

I begged him and begged him to just take me, fuck me senseless, but he ignored me and slowly prepared me for him, then I felt his fingers trembling on my hips as he carefully breached me, inch by inch, stopping to make sure that I was fine, constantly checking that I wasn’t in pain.

I felt like he was killing me in the best kind of way. That I was his and there was not going to be anyone else, ever again. That nothing could ever compare to the way he was making me feel.

**Baz**

It was my first time. I could tell that it was his first time too. I wanted it to feel special, at least for him (god knows it meant the world to me).

I barely moved, even though it was torture, because I wanted him to get used to it. I had used plenty of lube, but he still felt so incredibly tight. And hot. He’s always so warm…

When I finally started moving, I felt like every single one of my nerves was on fire, like I was going to die in that bed, fucking him. Making love to him (even though he didn’t know).

And then it was just heat, accelerated heartbeats, my hands pressed into his skin, his sobs and my moans, a startled cry when I hit the right spot, _fuck_ and _oh my god, you feel so good_ , _faster_ and _please_ , and then he was coming in my hand, calling my name and I was finally tipping over the edge and emptying myself inside him.

**Simon**

I thought it was going to be awkward afterwards, but he was so tender. He helped me clean up, checked that I was ok, he got rid of the condom and gave me some water. Then he tried to tuck me to bed and leave, but I asked him to stay (it was his bed, after all).

I cuddled up next to him. And he slept in my arms.

**Baz**

I thought it was going to be awkward waking up next to him. I had lied awake for ages, trying to fall asleep. But then, when my eyes opened, I found him staring at me with a smile.

He kissed me.

Then kissed me some more.

We had breakfast and then ended up in bed again. This time I asked him to fuck me and he did and I thought I was irretrievably lost, because nothing else would ever feel like that ever again.

I was his and no one else would ever touch me like that. Ever again.

**Simon**

We spent the weekend in bed, taking turns fucking each other. Kissing and touching and exploring each other’s bodies. Barely speaking.

That was probably a mistake in hindsight.

**Baz**

On Monday morning we left for university, parting with a kiss on the doorstep. Just a quick peck on the lips.

Had I known it was the last one, I would have made it special.

When I came back in the evening, I found Wellbelove in our kitchen. Simon was nowhere in sight.

“Hey Baz,” she smiled at me. I felt frozen to the spot.

“Wellbelove, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I’ve come to patch things up with Simon. I made a mistake on Friday and I came to apologise. He’s gone out to get some food. I think he wants to celebrate.”

So that was it.

**Simon**

I didn’t get a chance to explain. To talk to her. To talk to him. To make up my mind and figure out what I really wanted, who I wanted to be with.

By the time I got back, he was rushing out of the flat with an angry expression on his face.

“Baz,” I tried to grab his hand.

“Fuck off, Snow! Die in a fire!”

**Baz**

I spent the last three weeks in our flat avoiding him. I stayed at Niall and Dev’s, crashing on their sofa when they would allow me to.

I swore at him every time I saw him. I was horrible to him. I didn’t want to see him ever again.

And then I moved in with Fiona, concentrated on work, on rebuilding my mother’s company. It was just work, work, work for six months.

Catching a glimpse of him on my way to the office, twisting the knife he had planted in my heart every time I saw him.

And then Penelope Bunce asked me to break them up. Because apparently, he’s unhappy. She said he’s miserable.

And how can I let him suffer, even though he shattered my heart?

**Simon**

I tried to speak to him. I wanted to explain that I was confused, that I just needed time and that maybe I didn’t really want to be with Agatha, but every time I tried to talk to him, he was a total dick. He shouted at me that he hated me. That it had just been pity sex. That it meant nothing to him.

And I believed him at the beginning. But then time went by and I put the pieces of the puzzle together. I thought about all the times he had stayed up late to keep me awake when I was studying until late and I was constantly on the verge of dozing off. Of all the times he bought my favourite food and left it in the fridge for me, without a word. Of the way he looked at me, when he thought I didn’t see him. Of what it was like that weekend, the way he touched me, the way he said my name, the warmth in his eyes and the desperation and heartbreak on his face when I came back and he thought I had gone back to Agatha.

I think he had feelings for me.

I know that I did.

But it took me too long to realise it and by the time I did, he was gone. And I was feeling so heartbroken and lost, that I thought that maybe being with Agatha would make me feel better. That we belonged together and Baz had just been a wild dream. But I couldn’t even kiss her; I could barely hold her hand without thinking about him. I was constantly wondering what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he was also thinking about me all the time or if he missed me. It was killing me.

Being with Agatha was a colossal mistake, a complete disaster. So I made up my mind and finally spoke to her.

But I still haven’t managed to find the courage to speak to Baz. Because I feel so bad for the way I treated him and I’m terrified that he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

I look at him now, standing in front of the door of my bakery and I think he’s going to leave again. That he’s going to pretend he hasn’t seen me looking at him, like he always does, and then he’s going to turn and walk away.

But this time, his hand finds the door knob and pushes it open.

He comes in and his eyes meet mine.

And I can’t help but smile at him, because I’ve waited for this moment for so long.

“Hey Baz,” I manage to say, my voice nearly breaking.

“Snow,” he simply says, looking cool and gorgeous.

**Baz**

I think I might faint.

I haven’t spoken to him in six months and it looks like I’ve lost all ability to form words.

“Do you have any almond croissants?” I finally ask, after what feels like ages.

He hesitates, his mouth open (was he expecting me to insult him?), then he smiles and points at the pastry selection.

“I have almond, chocolate, jam, cream and plain croissants. How many would you like?” he says, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

“Can I have one of each, please?” I hear myself say.

I’m going to put on weight.

“Anything else?” he asks, cocking his head. This feels surreal.

“Some bread?” I ask, because clearly customers normally ask if they need fucking bread.

“I have a nice long baguette that would be perfect for you,” he says and then he blushes.

**Simon**

Fuck.

That was awkward.

What the hell was I thinking?

He raises an eyebrow and just gapes at me for a few seconds, then nods.

“Your- I mean _a_ baguette sounds lovely,” he mutters.

I put one in a paper bag for him and then wish the ground would swallow me, because I have dreamed about this moment for months and I am now fucking things up royally.

I want to ask him to stay. To talk. To go on a date with me.

But I don’t even know if he’s single or if I still stand a chance with him.

**Baz**

We move to the till and I’m about to get my credit card out, when I think that if I pay in cash, he will have to touch my hand when he gives me the change (I am that pathetic). I give him a twenty quid note and wait for him to fish out coins and banknotes from the till.

His fingers brush against mine and I might be delusional, but I’m pretty sure they linger for a few seconds longer than necessary, as he drops the change in my hand.

“I hope you enjoy them,” he says with a shy smile.

“I’m sure I will,” I say, trying to keep my cool, “especially the baguette.”

What the fuck, Basilton?

“If you come again tomorrow, I can offer you a cuppa,” he says, looking hopeful, “I can even get your posh tea. Empress Grey from Marks and Spencer, right?”

And I can’t help but smile, because he remembers what kind of tea I prefer. So I nod, speechless, as my eyes lock with his.

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning, then.”

He smiles and waves at me on my way out.

And I feel like I’m fluttering like a butterfly on my way to the office.

**Simon**

“Well, that was smooth. Especially the baguette part…” says Shep from behind me.

I groan and hide my face in my apron.

“How long have you been there, eavesdropping on me making an idiot of myself?” I ask.

“Pretty much since your old flame walked in. You were both so engrossed in each other, that you didn’t even notice I was there.”

“Shit, Shepard! How bad was it?”

“I think it went well,” he replies, patting my back, “his eyes were definitely heart-shaped. Especially when you mentioned your almighty baguette.”

“Fuck off!”

“Jokes apart, I think you might get a chance to win him back. Especially now that you’ve finally broken up with Agatha.”

“I really want to patch things up with Baz,” I say with a sigh, “I hope it’s not too late.”

“By the way, have you told Penny that you left her?”, he asks putting his apron on, “she’s been nagging me about trying to talk some sense into you.”

Shep looks slightly guilty and I sigh.

“I’ve kept your secret for over a month, Simon, but she’s leaving today for the South Pole and I feel bad about not telling her the truth.”

“I thought it was the North Pole. And no, I haven’t, because she doesn’t deserve to know, since she was nosy and annoying about it.” Penny was forever meddling and she drove me nuts. “I’ll tell her when she gets back.”

**Baz**

I get to the office and realise that I’ve just broken rule number 3: “always charge the client for additional expenses.”

Sod it. It was well worth it.

I got to finally speak to him and he smiled at me. And the croissants were to die for.

I’ll just have to be extra professional from now on and avoid breaking the other rules.

I’m sure that’s going to be easy.


	2. Rule number 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s cat, awkward flirting, more terrible bread jokes (you didn’t seriously think I was done with them, did you?), an awful lot of breakfast, Netflix and chill.  
> No penguins were harmed in the making of this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [ Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) and to [ commeunoasis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commeunoasis/pseuds/commeunoasis) for being fantastic betas and for putting up with my stupid bread jokes. This chapter would have been a mess without your help!
> 
> Quick reminder of the 3 rules to match-breaking:  
> 1\. Never have sex with the person you’re supposed to break up.  
> 2\. Don’t fall in love with them.  
> 3\. Always charge the client for additional expenses.

**Baz**

Snow’s bakery, _The Cheeky Goat_ , opens at 8 o’clock.

It’s 7:58 and I feel like a colossal idiot. I’m about to turn and go kill some time at the park, to come back in 15 minutes and look less like an eager schoolgirl, when the door opens and Snow’s curls appear in all their glory.

“Hey Baz, come in!” he says cheerfully.

I try to look cool, clutching my briefcase and straightening my tie as I follow him inside and then I stop in my tracks.

There’s a little table with a wooden pink chair, tucked in a corner of the bakery. I swear it wasn’t there yesterday. Nor the days before.

I point at it and Snow blushes.

“Since when have you become a café?” I ask.

Simon scratches his head, tugging at his curls and he starts blushing. He looks absolutely adorable and I feel my knees going weak.

“Since this morning and only for a selected clientele,” says a voice from behind the counter. I turn and find Shepard winking at me, a grin on his face.

“Nice to see you, bro!” he greets me.

I don’t think we’ve ever been ‘bros’, but he’s Simon’s only male friend. And Bunce’s boyfriend (god knows why, that woman scares me).

“Hello, Shepard.”

I sit down at the small table and Simon stands next to me, his fingers nervously playing with his apron.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asks.

I feel a shiver running down my spine, as I notice something touching my feet. I look and there’s nothing under the table. Strange.

“One of your chocolate croissants would be nice, thank you.” They were phenomenal. “And a cup of tea, please.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so polite to him since the day I’ve met him. We used to swear at each other all the time.

He rushes behind the counter to get my breakfast and I’m left there, looking around his shop, the mouth-watering smell of fresh bread and pastries filling my nostrils, while Shepard studies me, sipping his coffee with a mysterious smile on his face.

And then something attacks me from behind. I jump up with an undignified yelp and end up falling off my chair. I try to get up before Snow sees me, but then the furry creature jumps on me again. I stare at its pale blue eyes.

When Snow comes back, he finds me sitting on the floor, a black cat in my lap.

“What the hell is this?” I ask, pointing at the feline.

“That’s Simon’s cat,” Shepard says.

“Like the one from YouTube?” I ask, confused.

“Captain Butterpants is on YouTube?” Simon frowns, picking up the cat and stroking its head, “since when?”

“Who’s Captain Butterpants?” I wonder, standing up.

“My cat. He’s a stray that I picked up last month.”

**Simon**

He reminded me of Baz. Black fur, eyes almost grey.

I told Penny that I found him in the street and he was wet and cold, but the truth is that I actually went to the RSPCA and adopted him. I felt so empty and miserable for months and Shep suggested getting a pet. I think he meant a goldfish or a hamster, but as soon as my eyes landed on Captain Butterpants, I knew it was him.

He’s a bit of a temperamental cat. He only likes a few people and only lets me touch him. The lady at the RSPCA was really surprised when he let me stroke him straight away.

I think we’ve both been let down by people in the course of our lives and I like to think that we’ve found each other.

**Baz**

I’m about to point out that it’s probably against health and safety regulations to keep a pet in a bakery, when I see the look of absolute love in Simon’s eyes, as he gently pets his cat and I find myself smiling at him.

He kisses its head and then holds it in his arms as he fetches a plate with my croissant, followed by a cup of tea. The mug is chipped and stained and I recognise it straight away. It’s his favourite and he’s had it for years.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome,” his smile is contagious.

“Simoooon! The oven’s beeping. I think your cake is ready!” cries Shepard from the kitchen.

“Shit! I’ll be back in a second,” he says. As soon as he puts the cat down, the animal jumps in my lap again and starts purring. It’s a loud little thing, like a miniature lawnmower.

What am I supposed to do with it?

**Simon**

“Shep!” I whisper, hiding behind the door frame.

“What’s up, my man?”

“Shush! Look, they’re cuddling!”

Shep peeks over my head and lets out a snort.

“It appears your cat has fallen for your man. You might have competition, bro.”

“He’s not my man,” I want to add ‘unfortunately’, but I feel a bit pathetic already.

“I’m not sure about that,” says Shep pushing me outside of the kitchen and nearly making me stumble.

Baz is absentmindedly stroking my cat’s dark fur, as he sips on his tea and checks something on his phone. There are only some crumbs left on his plate, so I think he liked the croissant (I knew he had a sweet tooth). When he notices me, he puts his flashy new iPhone down and looks at me.

“Hey,” he murmurs. I haven’t talked to him in months, but I know him well enough to be certain that he’s nervous.

So much has happened between us. I want to patch things up, start again, but it’s so hard.

“Can I bring you anything else?” I ask, the thick fabric of the apron twisted in my hands.

“I…thanks, but I need to go now. They need me at the office,” he explains and he looks genuinely sorry about it.

“ _Love’s Light Wings_ , right? I’ve read about it in the papers. You’ve become quite famous. Youngest CEO in the history of Watford.”

His lips curl into a small smile and he looks around the shop.

“Your bakery is lovely. You’ve done a really good job with it,” he says, making me blush, “Ebb would be proud.”

“I hope so…”

He gets up and fishes his wallet out of his trousers pocket, but I shake my head.

“Breakfast’s on the house,” I tell him.

“No way, let me pay at least for the croissant,” he objects and I suddenly have an idea.

“You can pay tomorrow,” I say and I feel my cheeks catching fire as he gapes at me and then smirks, “I-I mean…if you want to come b-back tomorrow, that is…”

Bloody stammer! I haven’t had any problems speaking for months and then Baz Pitch comes back and I’m a stuttering mess.

“Sure,” he says looking cool and composed, a smile on his gorgeous face, “I would like to buy some bread though.”

**Baz**

“I’ve got some lovely multiseed loaves that are fresh from the oven. These are spelt and rye and Shep’s also made this fig and walnut loaf and it’s absolutely amazing!” he points at the bread in the different baskets with a heart-warming enthusiasm.

He turns and reaches for a higher shelf and I can finally appreciate how amazing he looks in those tight jeans he’s wearing (his bloody apron is in the way though, so I can’t see the way they probably fit tight around his glorious cock).

I take an appreciative look at his arse, round and firm, and remember the way it felt under my fingertips. How hot he was, how tight he felt when I slid my dick into him. The noises he made when I spread his cheeks and flicked my tongue on his rim.

“What type of bread would you like?” he asks and I swallow loudly.

“I quite like the look of your buns,” I hear myself say, my voice suddenly hoarse and low.

Shep nearly chokes on his coffee (I hadn’t even noticed that he had come back from the kitchen).

“I bet you do, bro,” he says, winking at me.

Fuck.

The door suddenly opens and Penelope Bunce walks in. She pretends to be surprised to see me here, but I can see a glint of satisfaction behind her glasses.

“Pitch. Nice to see you’re still alive.”

“Same for you Bunce,” I say coolly.

Simon looks happy to see her, but Shep is nearly in tears as he hugs her like a lost puppy.

“Why do you have to leave today, sweetie? Can’t you wait until after our anniversary at least?” he pleads. She strokes his dark hair and pats his back.

“You know I can’t. I’ll call you as soon as I get there,” she promises.

“Penny’s leaving for the North Pole,” Snow explains to me.

“South Pole!” she replies annoyed, “how many times do I need to tell you? And it’s actually the Antarctic Peninsula.”

He shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“You two, behave and don’t eat too much cake,” she tells them, “and remember to sleep, eat your greens and clean your flats.”

“Penny, we’re twenty-two, not two!”, says Simon looking affronted.

“Simon, I caught you spreading butter on cheddar last week and Shep thought that marmite was the same thing as Nutella.”

“Don’t be too bossy with the poor penguins,” says Simon pouting (and he’s so fucking adorable).

“Simon, penguins are horrible creatures,” she declares, a serious expression on her face.

“But, Penny! They’re so cute,” her boyfriend protests.

“They’re loud, they stink like hell and they shit everywhere,” she says, “such a nightmare.”

**Simon**

A few days go by and Baz keeps on coming for breakfast. I have to move the table and chair after he’s gone, though, because a few customers tried to sit down and order food.

The weather’s crap today and it’s dark and gloomy outside. Agatha walks in, a radiant smile on her face, then she spots Baz sitting at his small table and frowns.

“Simon, is that Baz Pitch?” she whispers when she reaches the counter.

I nod and feel nervous. She doesn’t know about what happened between me and Baz after she broke up with me six months ago. I’ve only told Shep; I didn’t even have the courage to tell Penny about it.

“What is he doing here? I thought you two hated each other,” she mutters.

“Well…it’s complicated. He’s having breakfast,” I add with a tentative smile.

“He’s wearing sunglasses,” Agatha points out.

“He says the sun bothers him.”

“And a trench coat…”

“He says it’s in fashion,” I shrug.

“And I’m pretty sure he’s pretending to read that newspaper,” she looks really suspicious now.

“It’s the Financial Times. Apparently, it helps him keep up with the state of the economy,” I say and notice that Baz is now frowning too (I think he’s glaring at us, but it’s a bit difficult to tell with those sunglasses in the way).

His strange outfit was a bit weird at the beginning (even Shep found it suspicious), but I asked Baz and he had a very reasonable explanation, so I just dropped it.

“Simon, I think Baz Pitch is spying on you. There’s something going on. Is this the first time he’s come to your bakery?”

“No, he’s been coming since Tuesday,” I quickly do the maths, “so it’s the fourth morning.”

“And since when is this place a café? If I had known, I wouldn’t have got this expensive chai latte from Starbucks.”

“Err…I’m only offering the breakfast service to him,” I say scratching my head, “sorry, Aggie…”

**Baz**

There’s definitely trouble in paradise. They’ve been arguing since Wellbelove came in. She keeps on glaring at me and looks positively pissed off; maybe she’s jealous.

She buys some bread and then leaves. They don’t even exchange a kiss (not even on the cheek).

Brilliant, that will make my job so much easier.

I will break them up in no time.

And then Snow will finally be free.

**Simon**

It’s Saturday and I’m not expecting him to come, since he doesn’t have to go to the office, but when I open the shop at 8, he’s already waiting outside. I guess he still has to have breakfast.

“The usual?” I ask, he takes his coat off and sits down. Captain Butterpants practically dives from the counter onto the table and then cuddles up in his lap, purring like there’s no tomorrow. I think he likes Baz more than he likes me now, but I don’t take offence (I like Baz an awful lot too).

“I think I’m going to try one of your apple turnovers today,” Baz says, stroking my cat with a soft smile on his face, “and Shep said yesterday that he has a fancy coffee machine that makes the best coffee in town. Could you please make one for me?”

“Sure,” I reply and go and fetch Shep, because I have no clue how that sodding machine works.

I wasn’t even expecting him to come today. I’m so ridiculously happy.

**Baz**

I think it’s time I move on to phase 2 of the match-breaker manual.

“Snow, maybe we should grab a cup of coffee one of these days,” I say with a charming smile and then I freeze. Because he’s literally grabbing a mug full of coffee and passing it to me as I ask him the question.

What shit timing. I’m definitely losing my cool…

He looks at the mug, then at me and blinks a few times.

“I-I’m working all day today,” he mutters.

“No worries, it was just an idea. To have a chat, you know.”

“But I’m free after work. I need to go buy some cat litter for Captain Butterpants. You can come with me if you want,” he mutters, looking incredibly flustered.

“Sure! That sounds great.” I don’t think anyone has ever sounded so enthusiastic about buying cat litter.

**Simon**

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Was he asking me to go out?

He said he wanted to grab a cup of coffee, but he knows I only drink tea. I just want to spend time with him, talk, find out if he’s available or if he still hates me.

**Baz**

I pick him up at 5 and realise that he actually lives in a small flat above the bakery. He appears from a side door, wearing a pair of faded jeans and one of his old hoodies under his open coat. His hair is wet and he smells like cinnamon, so I assume he’s just taken a shower (and possibly baked a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls).

He still hasn’t got his driving licence, so I suggest driving him to Pets At Home.

“We can just walk to the small pet shop in town,” he says.

“Snow, it’s raining and besides, that place is overpriced and barely has anything,” I argue.

“How do you know? Do you have any pets?” he asks as he opens the car door and jumps in.

“No, but my little sister has a dog and she always sends me to buy stuff for him.”

I start driving, the wind is howling and it’s pouring down. I turn the heating up a notch, because it’s early December and I’m freezing. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he says looking at me.

It’s so weird how we went from shouting insults at each other to shagging to more insults and then complete silence for so many months. And now we’re having a civil conversation about my family and pets.

“I have three younger sisters and a little brother. They’re all my half-siblings. My father remarried when I was ten.”

“Oh,” he says, “the divorce must have sucked.”

“My mother died when I was five,” I explain.

There’s silence and then I feel his hand on my knee, squeezing it lightly and then resting there, warm and comforting.

I normally hate telling people. They start feeling sorry for me and I end up being the one consoling them, regretting opening up and saying that my mother passed away when I was young. But I know that Snow is an orphan. He told me when we first met, matter-of-factly, like he just wanted to get it out of the way.

He doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate more than all the ‘ _I’m so sorry; that must have been hard._ ’

I keep on driving until we get to the shop and then we end up spending ages looking at rabbits, guinea pigs, gerbils and hamsters.

I even consider buying a fucking pet; that’s how ridiculously soft I’ve become.

Phase 2 is not going according to plan.

**Simon**

Since it’s just 6 on a Saturday evening and we have no plans (I wanted to ask him if he has a boyfriend, but I’ve chickened out), we end up going to the supermarket to buy some food.

This is not too bad.

It feels like a date.

**Baz**

I wanted to take him out on a proper date.

Dinner and then drinks; make him open up and convince him that Wellbelove is not the right person for him. That he can do better. Maybe go a bit off-script and hint at the fact that I’m free and available (that’s against the rules, but at this point I don’t give a monkey’s arse about the fucking match-breaker manual).

But why the fuck am I at Tesco’s, looking for salt and vinegar crisps?

And why on earth am I enjoying this so much?

**Simon**

I want to ask him to come up, but when he parks the car in front of the bakery, I just sit there feeling awkward and smiling stupidly at him.

“Thanks for driving me,” I say.

“My pleasure,” he says and he looks so hot that I feel like I’m melting, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“It’s actually my day off tomorrow, but Shep will be there,” I say and when I see the look of utter disappointment on his face, I can’t help but grin. “I have to take my duvet to the dry cleaner though. Captain Butterpants puked on it.”

“Oh, nice…I mean, gross!”

“You could come with me, if you want,” I say, shrugging, hoping that he will say yes.

“Ok. I can drive you there, since the weather is supposed to be even worse tomorrow. I think they open at 10, would that be a good time to pick you up?”

“Perfect, thanks,” I whisper. And I’m dying to kiss him goodnight, but I just put my hand on his knee again and squeeze it.

**Baz**

I get a text from Niall before going to bed.

**Niall (11:25pm)** : are we still ok for the football match tomorrow?

 **Baz (11:26)** : sorry, I’m busy.

 **Dev (11:30)** : have you finally found someone who is willing to suck your posh cock?

 **Baz (11:32)** : fuck off, Dev! I have work to do.

 **Niall (11:33pm)** : on a Sunday morning? Baz, you’re going to kill yourself. You need a break every now and then.

 **Baz (11:35pm)** : it’s a match-breaking job.

 **Dev (11:36)** : wtf, I thought you had stopped doing that.

 **Baz (11:46pm)** : it’s for an acquaintance. It’s about Snow.

Niall calls me straight away and he wants to know everything. He’s the only one who knows about what happened between me and Snow and he thinks this job is a terrible idea.

“Don’t worry, Niall. I’m being professional.”

I don’t tell him that I’ve been breaking rule number 3 every morning.

Well, a man needs breakfast.

“Baz, you were in love with him. Don’t you have a rule about not falling in love with the people you’re breaking up?”

“Yes, that’s rule number 2,” I tell him, “but everything is under control.”

**Simon**

Nothing is under control.

I wake up late and the house is a mess. I look outside and Baz is already waiting for me, so I hurry up. On my way out, I fall down the stairs, but since I’m carrying a queen size duvet, I end up landing on it and luckily, I don’t break anything. My arse is sore though and I think my elbow is starting to swell up.

“Oww…”

“Snow, what the fuck happened? I saw you flying down the last few steps,” says Baz helping me get on my feet. That’s not the kind of entrance I was planning on doing. I even wore my best hoodie and a clean pair of jeans today (somehow I always end up with flour on my clothes).

“I slipped,” I reply, massaging my arse. I notice him staring at it with an intent look.

“Let’s get this thing in the boot and then drop it at the dry cleaner’s,” he says after a good minute of checking out my bottom.

I wonder if I managed to get flour on it again.

**Baz**

After leaving the duvet to get cleaned, we stop at Waterstone’s to buy some books. I want some light reading and Snow is looking for recipe books. He ends up buying one on Scandinavian bread and one on pizza.

Then his stomach starts rumbling, so we grab a sandwich and eat it at the park. The weather forecast was wrong, as usual, and the sun is shining.

**Simon**

After lunch I drag him to the pond to feed the ducks. In the end he seems to enjoy it, even if we get chased by a rabid swan.

**Baz**

Fucking swans. If it weren’t for the fact that they belong to the Queen, I would have kicked it.

**Simon**

In the afternoon, we have a walk along the canal and start chatting. We start off with the weather, but then we actually talk about things. Like how his mother’s company was going bankrupt and his father had given up on it, but Baz wanted to save it, because it meant a lot to him. I tell him about Ebb, how she died of cancer and how hard it was to lose her. How Penny and Shep helped me pick up the pieces and focus on the bakery.

We talk about his family and my cat, about how much of a dick he was at university and how annoying I was.

We talk about everything but that weekend.

It gets dark and we head back. I want to ask him to come up for a cup of tea, but I’m worried that I might end up kissing him and he might not want me to.

Maybe he just wants to be friends.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?” he asks, as I stand in front of my door. He looks so gorgeous, with his hair falling around his cheeks in soft waves, his grey eyes and soft looking lips.

“I need to paint the bathroom. There was a leak and it looks a mess,” I say and I can’t stop staring at his mouth.

“I could help you,” he says, leaning closer, “I’m taller than you.”

“Wanker,” I whisper, licking my lips, “you always have to rub it in, don’t you?”

“I’ll come by after work,” he smiles and his fingers brush against my cheeks.

And then he turns and he leaves, raising his hand to wave goodbye.

I feel like I might go off.

**Baz**

On Monday I get a pain au chocolat and a cappuccino for breakfast. Then after work, I help him paint his bathroom. I don’t stay for dinner, though, but I can feel his eyes on me all the time and I wonder if he actually wants me to stay.

**Simon**

On Tuesday he orders a cinnamon swirl and a cup of Earl Grey. In the evening he helps me take the leftover bread to the local food bank and we end up staying for a couple of hours to give a hand to the volunteers. He rolls his sleeves and I feel my mouth watering at the look of his strong arms.

**Baz**

On Wednesday I have a pain au raisin and a cup of coffee. I get out of work earlier and I help him prepare the cakes for a huge order that he has to complete for the following day. Apparently, it’s going to be a massive birthday party and Snow’s been selected to bake his famous cakes and biscuits. I end up covered in flour and I go home to shower, so I don’t stay.

**Simon**

On Thursday I make a chocolate cake (he might have mentioned that it’s his favourite) and he eats two slices, washing them down with an americano. I can’t think of an excuse to see him in the evening, but Shep pretends to have a cold and says that he needs to go home earlier, so I will need help closing the shop. Baz is happy to oblige.

“I’m making pizza dough for tomorrow,” I say tentatively, leaning closer to him as he’s about to leave, “would you like to come and have dinner at my place?”

“Yes,” he answers straight away and I feel my heart beating madly in my chest.

**Baz**

On Friday I have an almond and hazelnut croissant and this time he comes to my office at 5 and he helps me sort out the pile of old documents that my mother left behind. It’s a painstaking job, but it’s also hard for me to look at her notes and decide what needs throwing away, so I am glad that he’s here for me.

We end up covered in dust, but he insists on going directly to his place to make pizza, because the dough will be ready.

“You can take a shower at mine,” he says, “I have some clothes that you can borrow. And before you say anything, the trousers are long enough for your ridiculous legs.”

They aren’t and he looks mortified as I stand in front of him, looking like a plonker. The trousers don’t even cover my ankles, but we both end up laughing and he asks me to help him prepare the toppings for the pizza. 

I sneak glances at him, as he cleans the table and gets all the ingredients ready and I can’t help but smile. Because he’s here with me and there’s a warm atmosphere, like we’re finally where we’re supposed to be. My fingers brush against his and his eyes meet mine. A soft smile blossoms on his lips.

And it suddenly hits me.

I’m still irretrievably and desperately in love with him. I’ve been all this time.

“I’m going to take a quick shower while the oven heats up,” he says.

I nod, because I don’t trust my voice.

**Simon**

I normally eat in front of the telly when I’m on my own, but it’s nice to sit at the table and chat with him. We never used to do it, back when we were living together. We should have.

After dinner he helps me do the washing up and I start dreading the moment when he will say it’s time for him to go home.

“Would you like to watch something together?” I suggest, “Netflix and chill?”

He gives me an odd look and he blushes, but he nods enthusiastically and we sit down on the sofa. We end up watching this German series called ‘ _Dark_ ’, which is about time travel.

**Baz**

I don’t think Snow knows the meaning of the expression “Netflix and chill”.

His cat seems to know though. He’s spread on my legs and he’s purring so loudly that I’m struggling to hear what the guy on telly is saying (it’s in German anyway, so I keep on stroking Captain Butterpants).

**Simon**

I think I might kiss him.

He’s just sitting there, so close and yet not touching me, and I’ve never envied my cat so much in my entire life (not even when he can just give himself a lick instead of taking a shower).

“Shall I make some popcorn?” I ask, just to give myself something to do and avoid jumping on him.

“That would be nice,” he says.

**Baz**

To: pbunce@watforduni.uk

From: t.basilton_grimm-pitch@loves_light_wings.co.uk

_Dear Miss Bunce,_

_It is with deep regret that I inform you that I have decided to end our contract regarding the match-breaking of S. Snow and A. Wellbelove._

_I have already issued a full refund and I hope you accept my sincere apology for the inconvenience caused._

_Kind regards,_

_Basilton Grimm-Pitch_

_P.S. Don’t you dare hire someone else to do the job._

**Simon**

I come back to the living room and find him typing on his phone.

“Is everything ok?” I ask, sitting down next to him. This time our bodies are touching and I snuggle closer with the excuse of sharing the popcorn.

“Yes, just a work email,” he says, resting his hand on my leg, “it’s all sorted.”

**Baz**

Fuck rule number 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was not too fluffy! Please let me know what you thought; comments and kudos make me happy.


	3. Rule number 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward dates, an Indian take-away, confessions in the dark, polar bears and dubious farm animals.  
> I mean, who would not read this fic after this mind-blowing summary? 🙄

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you goes to [ Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) and to [ commeunoasis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commeunoasis/pseuds/commeunoasis) for being brilliant betas and for all their support with this silly fic. You are both wonderful!  
> A huge thanks to all the people who have left kudos and comments. 💙
> 
> Quick reminder of the 3 rules to match-breaking:  
> 1\. Never have sex with the person you’re supposed to break up.  
> 2\. Don’t fall in love with them.  
> 3\. Always charge the client for additional expenses.

**Simon**

I think we’re dating.

Baz and I have spent the last three evenings having dinner together at my place and then watching telly on the sofa. There hasn’t been any kissing, but plenty of popcorn (it’s a good excuse to sit closer) and he has even brought me a pot plant yesterday evening (it was basil and I took the piss, saying he was an egocentric twat).

I asked Shep and he said we are definitely dating, so the question is: why hasn’t he kissed me yet?

I’ve been leaning into him every time he’s about to leave and he lingers on my doorway. I even licked my lips (I felt like a complete tosser doing it, but apparently, it’s considered sexy) and…nothing.

Maybe I’m reading this wrong. Maybe he’s still mad at me for going back to Agatha. Or maybe he has a boyfriend.

**Baz**

I want to kiss him so badly, but first I need to break them up.

I want Simon to be free this time.

I want to make things right.

**Simon**

It’s Monday morning and he’s having breakfast. There are no other customers, so I take a stool and sit next to him.

“Hey,” I say and he graces me with one of his breath-taking smiles. “Do you have any plans for this evening?”

“No, I’m free. Would you like to have dinner at my place?” he asks, “my aunt is out of town tonight, so I have the flat to myself.”

I blush and nod.

Can Baz cook?

**Baz**

I can’t cook and I doubt that I can learn in ten hours, so I decide to go for a take-away. I get out of work earlier and clean the whole flat, then take a shower and choose the most stunning clothes that I own. Then I change my mind (because I realise that he’s going to call me a “posh twat”) and settle for a pair of snug jeans and a nice shirt with flowers and bumblebees. I leave a couple of buttons undone, because I always catch Simon staring at my chest.

The doorbell rings when I am getting all the leaflets for the local take-aways in a tidy pile on the table.

“Hello,” Simon says looking around my flat, his cheeks are flushed and he’s wearing an old orange hoodie and jeans that have ripped at the knees. I want him so badly.

He starts tugging at his curls and I realise that he’s really anxious. That it’s the first time he’s come here and he doesn’t know what to do, so I take his coat and ask him to sit on the sofa, while I bring him a drink (he just wants water) and then I sit opposite him and we both sigh.

**Simon**

Well, this is awkward. The house is so clean that I can smell the bleach from the bathroom (it doesn’t smell like food though). Everything is so tidy that I feel like my flat is probably a complete and utter mess in comparison. What must Baz think every time he comes over?

I mean, we lived together for three years, he knows I’m not tidy…

“Ehm,” I start, “the weather was nice today.”

“Yes…it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, though.”

Oh, what the fuck!

**Baz**

What the fuck, this is ridiculous! We’re talking about the bloody weather.

I get up and he jumps, so I stop halfway and then decide to just go for it and sit next to him.

There’s something that has been nagging me for the past few days. Something I need to do, before we start dating. Because I want to be honest with him this time.

I need to tell him the truth.

“Simon, there’s something I need to tell you. Before we start…this.”

He looks nervous and I take his hand. His fingers are warm, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t wear gloves and it must have been freezing outside.

“Go on,” he says.

“I…I don’t know how to say this, but…the reason I reconnected with you after all these months is…I mean, _was_ …professional.”

He frowns and tilts his head.

“I don’t get it, Baz.”

He looks confused and slightly worried and I feel the anxiety like a cold wave rushing over me.

“Bunce came to see me a couple of weeks ago.” I start, then take a deep breath to find the courage to continue, “she asked me to break you and Wellbelove up, as a match-breaking job.”

I can see his expression harden, his eyes looking upset and so blue that I could drown in them. He looks betrayed and he takes his hand back.

“You…you’re working for Penny?” he sounds heartbroken.

“No, not anymore. I broke the contract last Friday. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“W-why?” that simple little stammer breaks my heart. A simple sign that he’s troubled, that I hurt him and now he’s panicking. All because of me.

“Because I don’t want to break you up as a job,” I say slowly, looking him in the eyes, “I want you. For myself.”

“What?” he sounds incredulous, like the whole evening turned out to be a weird unexpected nightmare. “I-I need to leave. I need t-to think.”

He stands up, takes his coat and goes to the door; he grabs the doorknob, but then he stops.

His back is trembling as his face hits the door.

“Simon…”

“Sorry, Baz…”

He opens it and leaves.

**Simon**

“Can you believe this? She’s your girlfriend!” I shout and Shep hands me a coke. He sits on the floor and sips on his beer.

“Are you honestly surprised? It’s Penny we’re talking about.”

“But still! And what does that mean?” I ask, “Baz was just working for her…”

I feel my heart breaking a bit. I thought this was real. I thought he was back because he had forgiven me.

“But he said that he refused to do the job, because he wanted you,” Shep reminds me and I feel my cheeks warming up.

He said he wanted me for himself.

“I…I don’t know what to think anymore,” I say, covering my face with my hands and groaning.

“Bro, I think you should talk to him,” says Shep and he’s usually right, but this time I don’t think I can follow his advice. Not right now at least.

**Baz**

I’m a colossal idiot. Let’s face it.

I had the love of my life in my flat, everything was going so smoothly up until this morning and I ruined it all.

I was going to tell him the truth anyway, but I should have probably done it in a different way. Maybe kiss him first.

I pace nervously around the house and I go into the kitchen to grab a glass of something strong, when I notice the restaurant leaflets on the table.

And I realise that I invited him for dinner and then I let him leave on an empty stomach.

**Simon**

I decide to walk home, to clear my head a bit. I grab my phone and text Penny. I don’t know if or when she’s going to see my message, but I need to get it out of my system.

**Simon (7:45):** you hired Baz Pitch to break me and Aggie up! Are you fucking kidding me, Penny? 

I’m so mad at you right now! I hope a Polar Bear eats all of your snacks and shits on your clothes.

There. I feel better now.

I get to the bakery and I freeze. Baz’s car is parked right outside of my building. I thought I needed more time before seeing him again, but my heart is beating madly in my chest. My feet are already moving, running towards the entrance, taking the steps two at a time and then stopping when I see him in front of my door. He’s leaving a bag on the floor, his fingers nervously moving, before they finally stop and ring on my doorbell.

Then he turns and starts running down the stairs. When he sees me, he startles and he stops, looking surprised. Guilty.

“Simon…”

“Did you just leave a bomb on my doormat or something?” I ask.

“No…it’s dinner. From your favourite Indian restaurant,” he says, blushing lightly, “I got you some chicken tikka masala and onion bhajis. There’s some rice and a peshwari naan as well. I know you like it.”

I feel a warmth spreading through my chest and I end up smiling at him. Because he looks so awkward and all his defences seem to have crumbled to the floor.

“Are you expecting me to eat all of that on my own?” I ask, going up the few steps that separate us. My fingers brush against his wrist and his eyes open wide.

“I…It’s up to you,” he says, “maybe you want to share it with Wellbelove.”

“I broke up with her a month ago,” I finally tell him and I can see a little explosion of what’s probably hope or relief in his eyes.

I go past him and unlock the door.

“Well, are you coming in or what?” I ask.

**Baz**

The atmosphere is different from the one we’ve had so far. He heats up the food in the microwave and then we each put some on our plate in silence. Then Simon walks to the living room and sits on the sofa. I follow him and sit next to him, as he turns on the telly and flicks through the channels.

“Netflix?” he asks and I hum my approval, starting to eat to keep my hands busy. My hands are shaking and I think it’s most likely because of the nerves, but I’m also freezing (I have been waiting outside of his building for a good ten minutes, trying to decide whether or not to go in).

“Are you ok?” he asks gently.

“Just cold,” I mumble. He leaves his plate on the table, gets up and goes into his room, coming back after a minute with the softest blanket I’ve ever touched. It smells like him and I wish I could bury my face in it.

“Thank you,” I whisper, wrapping it around my legs. He takes off his hoodie and suddenly moves closer, snuggling under the blanket next to me.

I look at him and raise an eyebrow.

“What? I was cold…” he mutters. I feel a smile curling up my lips and he blushes.

When we finish eating, I offer to do the washing up, but he says that we can do it later, so we just continue watching telly, his body warm next to mine under the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” he says, all of a sudden.

“No, I’m the one who should apologise. I didn’t mean to betray your trust,” I say, looking at the screen, “I’ve been wanting to see you for ages, but I was too scared…I was terrified of finding out that you and Wellbelove were getting married. That you hated me.”

He turns to look at me and I do the same, the lights from the television making his face come alive and disappear alternatively in the dark room. 

“Baz…I’m sorry,” he says slowly, “I fucked things up six months ago. When you came home that evening and saw Agatha, we-we still…I hadn’t said yes to her. I just needed time.”

“Oh…” is all I can say.

He needed time.

“I needed more time to decide what I wanted. Who I wanted to be with,” he averts his eyes and starts playing with his t-shirt, “but I hurt you and then I assumed that you had sex with me just out of pity, so I was confused and felt heartbroken. I thought that going back to Agatha was the right thing to do.”

“Was it?” I find the courage to ask.

He shakes his head and takes my hand. Then he looks up and I see determination, regret and possibly something else in his eyes.

“I found my answer, but it was too late.”

I swallow and squeeze his hand.

“What was it?” I ask.

“That it’s you I want to be with.”

**Simon**

“It was never out of pity,” he says and I feel my heart beating, “I’ve always wanted you. Since the moment I first met you.”

What?

“B-but…we were horrible to each other! I thought you started fancying me towards the end of the third year.”

He shrugs and smiles.

“Love is complicated.”

He seems to realise what he’s said after it’s out of his mouth. _Love_. I wasn’t expecting him to use that word. He blushes, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

No one has ever told me that they loved me. Shep and Penny do sometimes, but not in that way.

“I…” I want to tell him that I love him. That I’ve had this enormous feeling growing in my heart for what feels like ages, like vines that have silently wrapped around my whole being, little by little, making it impossible to disentangle myself from them. Because the love I feel for him is part of me now. It’s something that lives in the core of my being.

“You are the only one I’ve ever wanted. There’s only been you, I’ve never even kissed anyone else,” he says, his beautiful grey eyes shining in the dark, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “I want to do things right this time. I don’t simply want to have sex with you. I want to date you and make you understand how much you matter to me.”

“I…You’re the only one for me too. I’ve never done anything with Agatha,” I confess.

I’ve always felt defective, like a terrible boyfriend, because I couldn’t give her the love that she deserved. But I’ve realised that I simply wasn’t in love with her. I’ve been in love with Baz all along.

“I thought we were already dating,” I say, confused. Maybe Shep was wrong after all…

Baz looks surprised, but then he smiles.

“I’m going to take you on a proper date. Wine and dine you. Sweep you off your feet.”

I grin at him and nod, because my heart feels like it’s about to burst and I don’t think I can trust my voice right now. I snuggle closer, still holding his hand, and rest my head on his shoulder.

“That sounds perfect,” I whisper after a while.

**Baz**

I wake up and the room is pitch black. Simon’s cat is curled up in my lap, a small bundle of purring fur. The tv screen has a message asking if we’re still watching Netflix. I think we both fell asleep a while ago.

I check my watch and it’s past 1am. Simon groans next to me and I gently shake him awake.

“Simon, it’s really late. I should go,” I whisper in the dark.

“No, stay,” he pleads with a small voice, almost like a child. I let him take me to his room, dragging his feet, his hair a crazy beautiful mess that I want to sink my fingers into. He hands me a pair of tracksuit bottoms and an oversized long-sleeved top.

“I’ll get you a new toothbrush,” he mumbles sleepily, after going to the bathroom.

I find myself brushing my teeth in his tiny bathroom, wearing his clothes, about to go to bed with him and I realise that I’m calmer than I thought I would be.

When I get back into his bedroom, he’s already asleep. He’s cast the blanket aside on what’s supposed to be my side of the bed and I climb in, unsure about how close I can get. I turn the bedside lamp off and then lie in the dark for a few minutes, trying to adjust to the faint light filtering through the gap in the curtains.

He looks so gorgeous, his mouth slightly open and his eyelashes fluttering over his closed eyes. I gently stroke his cheek and slide my fingers through his hair, marvelling at how soft it is, how warm Simon is.

“Hmmm,” he hums, “c’mere.”

His arms wrap around me and his curls tickle my chin as he nuzzles my neck.

“Good night, Simon,” I whisper.

**Simon**

“ _Jitterbug_.”

I stir and groan.

“ _Jitterbug_. _You put the boom-boom into my heart._ ”

Baz moves and I realise we’re wrapped together, his back against my chest and my arm holding him close.

“ _You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts. Jitterbug into my brain, yeah yeah._ ”

“What the fuck is that noise, Snow?” he groans, “make it stop!”

“ _Goes a bang-bang-bang 'til my feet do the same._ ”

“It’s my alarm clock,” I mutter, sinking my face into his back, breathing in his smell.

“It’s too early for fucking Wham! It’s four thirty in the morning,” he protests.

“I’m a baker, what were you expecting?” I answer and turn it off, “go back to sleep, darling.”

I kiss his neck, then his cheek and his forehead and I begrudgingly pry myself away from his warmth. He mumbles something I don’t quite catch and goes back to sleep.

I try to be as quiet as I can while I get ready for the day. I take a quick shower, since I didn’t manage to do it last night and then I have a light breakfast. As I’m drinking my tea, I hear some noises from the bathroom and then Baz appears, his dishevelled hair gives him a messy look that I find absolutely irresistible and the tracksuit bottoms I lent him sit so low on his hips, that I feel my mouth getting dry.

Did I agree to the wine and dine thing _before_ having sex?

“I’m freezing,” he grumbles and shivers. The flat is cold and Baz doesn’t run hot like me. I grab the blanket from the sofa and wrap it around his shoulders. He looks like he’s just survived a hurricane and I rub his arms in an attempt to warm him up.

“I need to go, sorry,” I say with an apologetic smile, “you go back to bed and come downstairs for breakfast later, when we’re open.”

He groans and looks a bit disappointed. I walk to the door and he follows me, the blanket still around his shoulders like a cape.

“I’ll see you later, then,” I say and he looks at me with his stormy eyes and I wonder what he’s thinking.

**Baz**

God, I want to kiss him so badly.

**Simon**

My phone starts ringing and I realise it’s Shep calling me, because I’m running late now.

“Sorry, I need to dash,” I tell him as I get my coat and put my trainers on without doing the laces. I lean in and, without thinking, kiss him quickly on the lips. Just a peck. Like the one we exchanged that morning, before everything fell apart.

We both freeze and stare at each other, but then he pushes me against the wall and his mouth is instantly on mine, his lips cool and soft, then the kiss heats up and I find myself pressed against him. I gasp in surprise and he slides his tongue inside my mouth, making me moan and deepening the kiss. His hands are on my hips, keeping me close. Mine are in his hair, making it even messier.

My phone rings again and I consider throwing it down the stairs, when we part for air and his forehead rests against mine.

**Baz**

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” I whisper.

“Yeah, me too…” he says, “I don’t want to go.”

“Simoooon, are you there?” shouts Shepard from the bottom of the stairs. He sounds worried.

“Coming!” Simon replies and then kisses me again quickly and leaves.

I stand in front of the door for a few minutes, hoping that he’s forgotten something, but then I go back to bed and sink into the familiar smell of his bedsheets. Captain Butterpants joins me and we both fall asleep, waiting for Simon’s return.

**Simon**

“Come on, spill the beans,” Shep is tapping his foot on the floor and is staring at me, his arms crossed, “what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” I insist.

“Are you trying to tell me that Baz suddenly appearing at half past seven, wearing jeans instead of his usual suit, with his hair all over the place, carrying your cat and saying that he needs to go home and change is nothing?” he asks, all in one go. How does he even manage to speak so fast?

“Well…” I fidget with the kettle and make myself a cup of tea.

“Well?” he asks. He’s bloody relentless!

“Ok, last night we had dinner and we talked,” I admit and Shep’s grin lights up his face, “he spent the night, so he had to go home and change, because he can’t wear jeans to go to the office. But nothing happened.”

“What do you mean nothing happened?” he asks, like my life is not up to standards with the soap operas that he secretly watches when Penny’s at work.

“We just slept,” I shrug and carry my steaming cup out of the kitchen. I think I’ve heard the door of the bakery open.

Shep follows me, throwing his hands in the air.

“But you said he has an amazing cock!” he shouts.

We both freeze. There’s an elderly lady in front of the counter; her eyes are big and confused. Shit…

“I beg your pardon?” she asks.

“My…my f-friend G-Gareth…” I stammer, “he…lives on a farm! Yes, he lives on a farm and he has loads of animals, you see?”

“Cows, sheep, chickens,” continues Shep, looking alarmed, “pigs.”

“And an amazing cock,” I add, “all red, mighty and big!”

“My father used to be a farmer,” the lady says dreamily, “we had pigs and goats. Our hens were the best in the village. So many eggs.”

The lady smiles and nods to herself, then the door opens again and Agatha walks in.

“I do like a big cock,” says the frail lady and Agatha’s mouth opens in horror, “they’re the best.”

“Gareth’s cock is huge!” says Shepard, not realising that Agatha is also there and is about to faint, “and he likes showing it off too. He goes to competitions and shows.”

“Oh, marvellous! I wish I could see it. Do you have a photo?” the elderly woman asks.

Agatha turns and slowly walks out, closing the door behind her.

I think we’ve lost a customer.

**Baz**

Fiona is looking at me with a smug expression on her face.

“How come you were late, Basil?”

“Traffic,” I say. She raises a single eyebrow and I realise I didn’t even take the car today because I was out of petrol, so I add, “on the tube.”

“Hmmm,” she mumbles, “interesting.”

This woman, honestly…

I try to keep myself busy all morning, but I end up checking my phone more often than not, until it finally buzzes on my desk and I nearly dive for it.

**Simon (10:34)** : I miss you. Dinner at mine this evening?

I smile like an idiot and type an affirmative answer at the speed of light. Five o’clock can’t come fast enough.

**Simon**

My phone vibrates in my back pocket as I have my hands covered in flour and biscuit dough.

“Shep, would you mind getting my phone from my jeans pocket?”

He comes into the kitchen and winks at me.

“I’ll take any chance I can get to touch your glorious behind, my dude.”

“Come off it,” I shake my head and he chuckles as he gets my phone and unlocks it for me. He shows me the screen.

**Penny (11:45)** : Polar bears live at the North Pole. How many times do I need to tell you?

I groan in frustration, while Shep reads the text and then starts laughing.

**Baz**

“Do you think I can get out of the four o’clock meeting with Davy Mage? Could you take over?” I ask Fiona, offering her a box of her favourite chocolates from Hotel Chocolat.

“Over my dead body, boyo.”

She still takes the box and hides it under her desk.

“I’ll never be able to find a partner for that wanker,” I mutter.

“You are taking the wrong approach, Basil.”

“What shall I do, then?” I ask, seriously interested in her suggestion on how to deal with my worst customer.

“You need to start with the facts,” she says waving her hand in the air, “show him the figures. Tell him that twats like him will never find someone to shag and are destined to a relationship with their hand forever.”

Why is it only midday?

**Simon**

“Oi, Shep!” I call from the kitchen.

“Yes, bro?” his head appears from the door, “it’s mad out here today. Hurry up with that cake.”

“Do you think I can get off work a little bit earlier today? I’m making dinner for Baz and I need to go to the supermarket to get some fancy wine.”

“Sure,” he says, “but you owe me a picture of Gareth’s glorious cock.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

**Baz**

**Niall (3:44):** How are you doing with the Snow job?

 **Baz (3:45):** All good.

 **Niall (3:50):** How many of the rules have you broken?

 **Baz (3:53):** Two. I am planning on breaking the last one this evening.

**Simon**

I run to the supermarket and I have absolutely no clue which wine to buy. I consider texting Shep, but he’s more of a beer type of guy, so he probably knows as much as I do (which is nothing).

“Oh, sod it,” I grab a random bottle with a weird foreign name written in curly cursive and I dash.

**Baz**

“I’m borrowing your car,” I tell Fiona, taking the keys from her handbag while she’s making herself a cup of tea.

“You most certainly are not!” she shouts at me, but I’m too fast for her and I’m out of the office by the time she comes out of the kitchenette, screaming insults at me.

I go home, take a shower and change in record time (I’m starting to think I might have supernatural speed) and then drive to Snow’s flat, using Fiona’s car, because I don’t have time to get petrol. I need to see him right now.

I run up the stairs and then knock on his door, and I suddenly feel really nervous. What if he has changed his mind? What if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?

He opens the door and I hold my breath. He’s only wearing a towel around his waist and he’s still wet from the shower, little droplets of water dripping from his curls down his shoulders.

“Finally,” he says and then he grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me closer, as I reach up to slide my fingers into his hair to crash our lips together. He smells amazing, like cinnamon buns and like something that pulls deeply at my core. He smells and tastes like home.

I’ve only realised in the last few days how much I’ve missed him, how much his presence was carved out of my life six months ago and how I was barely breathing, keeping afloat in a storm that had me nearly drowned. I was only living half a life without him.

He hums, my mouth over his, his tongue sliding against mine, a soft smile curling up his lips.

“Missed you,” he whispers, breaking the kiss and then coming back for more.

“I love you,” I say against his lips and his smile brightens up his beautiful face. He looks ridiculously happy, clinging to me, his eyes locked with mine, his hands cupping my cheeks.

“Baz Pitch,” he says softly, “letting you go was the worst mistake of my life. I’m never going to let that happen again.”

“You won’t?” I ask, and I can’t help my insecurity slipping out and making me sound a little broken.

“Never again, I’ve missed you too much,” he says and then kisses me again, “I love you too much.”

**Simon**

He won’t let go of me, his arms wrapped around my back, his hands possessively holding me close and his lips kissing mine, then moving to my face and down my neck.

“Bedroom?” I ask, because I suddenly couldn’t care less about dinner.

He nods and grabs my hand and I start laughing, seeing how his usual composure has flown out of the window.

“Weren’t you going to do your ‘meal deal’ thing before sex?” I ask teasingly.

“It’s called ‘wine and dine’, Snow,” he says, raising an eyebrow but smiling at the same time, “and I still plan on doing it.”

“Sweep me off my feet, then” I say as my towel gets unceremoniously untucked and falls on the floor with a soft thud. He groans and his eyes look hungrily at me, at my already hard cock and reddening chest. Because I can’t help but blush when I see him staring at me like that. Like he wants to eat me.

“I can start right now,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt while I tackle his impossible trousers.

“Couldn’t you just wear something easier to get off?” I ask, then he brushes my hands aside and unbuckles his belt in one swift move.

“Next time I’ll wear one of your tracksuit bottoms,” he teases, catching my lips again as I slide my hands down his pants, grabbing his arse.

“God, I missed this,” I whisper, clumsily pulling his trousers and pants down, “I want you.”

He licks his lips (and the way _he_ does it turns me on to no end) and then he pushes me onto the bed.

“How do you want me?” he asks, his voice deep as he climbs on top of me.

I don’t have to think about it, because it’s been on my mind all these months. That first time we did it, the way he took me, like I was everything he had ever wanted, like something fragile that needed extra care. Like he already loved me.

“I want you inside me,” I tell him and his grey eyes open wide, then his hands are all over me and I find myself moaning and gasping, while he kisses and gently bites his way down my chest, while his fingers curl around my cock and nearly make me lose the little control I had left.

“Condoms? Lube?” he asks, his fingers gently stroking the inside of my thighs as I spread my legs further apart, letting him lift my legs. His mouth lingers over my cock and he gives me one long stroke, without breaking eye contact. “Well?”

“Drawer,” I mutter, pointing with my finger, “but we don’t actually need a condom, if that’s ok with you. We’ve only ever been with each other and I’m healthy.”

His lips meet mine and I can feel how much he wants me from the way he kisses me.

“I want to feel you,” he whispers. Then he starts rummaging through the mess inside my drawer and retrieves the small bottle of unopened lube.

“Were you saving it for a special occasion?” he teases.

“Yes, tonight,” I say truthfully and the smugness is suddenly gone from his smile, quickly replaced by a sudden hunger. He pours some lube onto his fingers and then gently prods my entrance with one. I gasp as I feel it breach me. It’s been so long and we’ve only done it a handful of times.

“Shh, relax,” he whispers, kissing my thigh, “I’ve got you, love.”

I take a deep breath and his left hand finds mine and holds it tight. His finger goes deeper inside me and then slides out, only to be slowly pushed back in, making me gasp. I close my eyes and I feel Baz’s tongue licking a long strip up my cock, then suckling on the head and I feel like I’m already losing it. 

He adds another finger and then starts sucking my cock for good, his head bobbing up and down while his fingers drive me insane in the most delicious way.

“Baz, I want you…”

“One more finger, I want you nice and stretched,” he murmurs and I feel my cheeks burning and a moan escaping my mouth.

When he feels I’m ready for him, his fingers slip out and his mouth lingers for a minute longer on me. Then he spreads some lube on his cock and climbs on top of me.

“Is this position ok?” he asks.

“Yes, I want to be able to kiss you,” I whisper.

I take his dick in my hand and give it a couple of good strokes, enjoying the little gasps that come out of his mouth, then I guide him between my legs and let him push, slowly, maddingly slowly, until he’s completely inside me and I feel so full and pleasantly stretched.

“You feel absolutely amazing,” he murmurs against my mouth, then kisses me softly and whimpers as I move a bit and his dick slides even deeper.

“Fuck…you too,” I say, “you can move, you know?”

That’s all he needs to start rocking his hips, setting up a steady pace, until we’re both reduced to a babbling mess, calling each other’s name and _faster_ , _oh my god_ , _this is so good_ , _yes_.

“Baz, I’m going…” I moan as his hand closes around my neglected cock and starts stroking me and I know I’m not going to last a minute longer, so I feel my body tense and then an overwhelming orgasm runs through me like an electric current. I feel it down to my toes and I can’t stop making embarrassing sounds that seem to send Baz over the edge, because he comes deep inside me, calling my name as he fills me up with his come.

“Fuck, Simon…”

“Yes…fuck…”

He lies down next to me as we catch our breath, then we turn and smile at each other at the same time.

“Well, you literally swept me off my feet,” I say, nudging him with my elbow.

“Do you think you could return the favour later?” he asks in a crisp tone, a composed expression on his face only betrayed by the blush creeping up his cheeks.

My stomach starts rumbling really loudly and we both burst out laughing.

“Sure, but I need some sustenance first,” I say, scratching my head.

“How about a big thick baguette?” he asks, his eyebrow raised in a mischievous way and I just pull him in for another kiss.

“I miss living with you,” he says after a few minutes, a soft smile on his lips.

“I thought you hated my mess,” I reply, confused. I’ve missed him loads and living alone is not for me (thank god I have Captain Butterpants to keep me company).

“Your house feels more like home than my aunt’s flat. I’ve even come to like your mess,” he admits, shrugging, “maybe I’ve lost the plot.”

“I…” and I know this is early, but I’ve known him for ages and it feels like those six months without him were just an awful nightmare, so I whisper, “you can stay. For as long as you want.”

He stares at me with those stormy grey eyes that I love so much, then slides his fingers in my hair and plays with one of my curls.

“I’ll stay, then. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“I’ll free up half of my wardrobe for your fancy posh clothes.”

“I think I may need three quarters,” he teases me and I can’t help but smile.

“Whatever you want, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this silly fic! 💙 Please let me know what you thought about it.


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